THREE
JUNE 20th, 1995
Hermione landed softly on the hardwood floor. Her knees buckled and her wand flew out of her hand, clattering across the floor. Lunging for her wand, she held fast to the time turner in her left hand. She looked up at the ticking clock in the corner, trying to find her bearings. With a jolt of surprise, she realized she was in Grimmauld Place.
Since when could time turners move you in space and not time? She was all the way across London, the closest Tube station was Holborn. Footsteps sounded overhead and she pushed herself into Kreacher’s closet. It smelled disgusting- like blood and soured milk. Hermione screwed up her face when she thought of Kreacher waiting for them with soup after they infiltrated the Ministry. She hadn’t seen him since he charged into the Battle of Hogwarts with the other house-elves from the castle.
“Blood traitors and filth in mistress’ home… oh yes, the young master will get what is coming- ” Kreacher stopped, eyes wide at Hermione, “Mudbloods in Kreacher's closet! Mudbloods in Kreacher’s things! ” He jerked toward Hermione.
“Kreacher!” She hissed, trying to stay quiet, “It’s me! It’s Hermione!” A glob of the house elf’s spit landed on Hermione’s temple. She winced, holding him at arm's length as she wiped the side of her face. His grumbling got louder and would surely bring attention to her if there were other people in the house. She wrapped her arm around his waist, gagging at the smell, and put a hand over his mouth. People were coming into the kitchen, one laughing a loud barking laugh. Sirius.
“You’re right, Moony, he’ll do something like James and surprise us all,” Sirius said, chuckling more, “Honestly that boy has been through so much this year - we all have. I hope Dumbledore will let him come stay with me,” The chairs creaked as the two of them sat down at the table, “Accio Firewhiskey!” Hermione heard the bottle and glasses land gently on the table.
“Padfoot, I have a meeting with Dumbledore in Hogsmeade. I can’t be pissed when I go,” Remus said, admonishing Sirius, “besides is 9 o’clock in the morning, you drunk.”
“I am nothing if not consistent, Remus.” Sirius poured the firewhiskey at the same moment Kreacher’s teeth found Hermione’s hand. She cried out, releasing the small elf. Chairs fell over, clattering on the floor and the door flew open with a loud bang. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black stood in front of her, their wands trained immediately at her heart. Raising her hands up in surrender, Hermione dropped her wand. Blood trickled down her forearm, pitter-pattering on the wooden floor.
“Please,” She whispered, closing her eyes. These were her friends. Her dead friends. She couldn’t look at them. She saw them so clearly with her eyes screwed shut. The look on Remus’ face when he told her Sirius had died. Remus sitting in this kitchen, a newly expectant father. Remus dead, limbs spread eagle on the Hogwarts floor. “I mean no harm, please, let me explain,” Hermione tried to steady her voice, make it stronger, louder. But she faltered and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, despite her desperate attempt to reel them in. Kreacher breathed heavily in the corner, watching the scene before him.
“Hermione?” Remus whispered in disbelief, glancing at Sirius. He looked just as confused as Remus sounded. Hermione was here. But this Hermione’s hair was longer. She was taller. Her face had filled out. Her eyes fluttered open and found his. Though her hands were shaking and tears leaked down her dirty cheeks, her eyes held his fiercely.
“Ask me something only I would know.”
“I…” Remus stuttered, looking to Sirius. His friend shrugged, shaking his head in disbelief. “What is Hermione Granger’s boggart?” Surprising herself and the two men, Hermione laughed bitterly and the tears ran faster down her cheeks.
“When you knew me, Remus, my boggart was Professor McGonagall telling me I had failed everything. It was the only thing I couldn’t get past in your final exam.”
“Is that right, Moony?” Sirius asked, still staring wide-eyed at the young woman in front of him. Remus nodded. “Okay, what have the three of you been calling me while I’ve been in hiding?”
“Snuffles,” she answered immediately, her bright eyes finally locking with his. Sirius visibly relaxed and so did Remus. Hermione however still held her hands up in surrender, closing her eyes once more. She had her lips pressed tightly together in an effort to stop everything from exploding out of her. It was too much. It was all too much. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely stand. Her abdomen clenched and she pushed past the two men. She ran to the kitchen sink and emptied the contents of her stomach. Suddenly, Remus’ hands were on her, pulling her hair from her face and rubbing her back. Sirius stood to the side, watching the young woman heave, feeling helpless. Remus locked eyes with him, concern etched on his face. This wasn’t the fourteen-year-old girl that they knew. This was an adult who had been through something horrible, they could see it in her eyes and the premature lines on her face. Sirius wondered aloud about how she was here.
“Let’s talk about that later, Padfoot,” Remus hissed at him, handing Hermione a kitchen cloth.
“No, no,” she choked out, straightening her spine, “Let’s talk about it now. I am going to get my wand now.” She went back into Kreacher’s closet, wrapping her bleeding hand in the kitchen towel. She ripped the time turner out of his hands and grabbed her wand. She then picked him up by the back of his pillowcase. “Sirius, you need to order him to not tell anyone about what happened. About me. About this.” She lifted up the shining red time turner by its long chain. Sirius and Remus stood gaping at it.
“What is that?” Sirius moved closer and Hermione raised her wand.
“You have to order him, Sirius!” She growled, voice dangerously low, “Right now.” He stared at her, unblinking, awed at the power she held in the room. He looked down at Kreacher.
“I forbid you from speaking about this to anyone, Kreacher. You cannot talk about anything that has happened in the past hour. You will not talk about Hermione. You will not talk about the time turner.” Kreacher bowed low to Sirius.
“Mudbloods in Kreacher’s house. Mistress would be so disappointed in her blood traitor son.”
“Yes Kreacher,” Remus called from behind Sirius, “I am sure she would.” The three of them watched him grumble his way out of the room. Hermione tossed her hair back, looking at the two men in front of her. Her breath hitched and she could feel the need to dissolve into tears rear up again. Stiffly, she pulled out the chair and sat down, placing the time turner and her wand on the table.
“Hermione, what is going on?” Sirius asked softly, falling back into his seat next to his firewhiskey. With a flick of his wand, another glass landed in front of Hermione. He filled it more than halfway and she took a large gulp, the burning in her throat helping her return to herself. Remus sat down next to her and their eyes met again.
“You can tell us. Whatever it is.” He reassured her, a soft smile on his lips.
“When am I?” She asked, eyes not leaving Remus.
“June 20th, 1995,” Sirius answered. She couldn’t look at him, knowing what she knew.
“Okay,” The memories of her fourth year at Hogwarts came to her easily. “I come from 2005,” Both of them inhaled sharply. Ten years in the future. “I don’t know how to make this less uncomfortable. I didn’t expect to come here. I was walking in a park and a Patronus appeared. I followed it and it lead me to this,” she gestured to the time turner, “I was going to take it to the Ministry and it started spinning and now I’m here. I don’t know how or why, but I am. And now I don’t know what to do.” Hermione’s voice broke and tears started running from the corners of her eyes again.
“Hermione,” Remus said gruffly, placing his hand on hers, “I know. But we are going to work on this together. What do you need right now?” She pushed her glass forward and Sirius let out his barking laugh, filling it again. “Okay. So we drink. And we will figure it out."
“I’m just not sure how much I should divulge at the moment… I don’t want to change things prematurely…”
“Will it be okay, Hermione?” Remus asked, squeezing her hand. “Whatever it is you’re here for? Will it be alright?”
Hermione sighed, searching his face. Remus couldn’t help but notice the tears that filled her eyes again before she blinked them away. “I hope so, Remus. I really, really do. I’m going to try to make that happen. But for now, I would like to drink more firewhiskey.”
“Now, that I can do,” Sirius grinned, twitching his wand. Another bottle of firewhiskey appeared in his hand. For the first time, Hermione smiled, holding out her glass. Remus tossed back the remains of his glass and slid it to Sirius. “You sure, Moony? Don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore?”
“I’ll send him an owl. This takes precedence I think,” he took the refilled glass from his best friend.
At some point, they ended up in the library. They decided to engage themselves in a game of Exploding Snap in the hopes it could distract them from the fact that there was so much this Hermione couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell them yet. But she was undoubtedly Hermione. She had the same quips, the same laugh, the same sparkle in her eye that Remus saw when she was in his class at thirteen.
“Alright, I think I should be off,” Remus hiccuped, swaying where he stood. “I’ve some sleep to have I think,” He was slurring his words and Hermione couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched her old professor stumble over to the fireplace.
Sirius grumbled from his place on the large leather couch, “G’night, Moony. Come over again in the morning?” His words were startlingly clear for the amount of firewhiskey he had put down. Hermione had promised them an explanation first thing in the morning.
Remus stood in the fireplace, black soot somehow already on his face, “O’ course, Pads! I love you!” He threw down the Floo Powder “Lupid Cottage!”
“Did he just say ‘Lupid’?” Concern was etched on Hermione’s face as she stood, moving closer to the fire.
“Hah! Yeah, he did. We did that so randoms couldn’t find his house in the Floo Network. Dumbledore wanted it open to everyone in the-” Sirius broke off, realizing that he didn’t know who he was speaking to.
“I know about the Order, Sirius,” she sighed, taking a seat in the armchair across from him. “I know about everything. I guess it can’t hurt to tell you the things you already know,” she searched his face, her mind as clear as his was, even with the firewhiskey burning in her veins. “That the Order is worried about Voldemort coming to power again, that Dumbledore is slowly reaching out to old allies from the first war.”
“You say his name now,” Sirius remarked, “Hermione doesn’t say his name.”
“No, I didn’t. But I do now. Dumbledore once told Harry ‘fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself’, and I firmly believe that.”
“So what else do you know that I know?” He asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“I know about Frank and Alice Longbottom and how they were your friends. I know Bellatrix did that to them,” Sirius’ eyes darkened at the mention of the name.
“Ah, yes, my cousin.” It took everything in Hermione to not tell him right then that in a years time he would be dead. That his death would be pointless and Harry would feel so alone. That the same cousin who would kill him would slice the slur into her covered arm.
“I should go to bed, Sirius. I’ve had a really hard day,” Sirius stood and held his hand out to her, “Though maybe we should finish this first?” She lifted up the bottle of firewhiskey. Only about a 4th was left. Sirius pulled the bottle from her hand and flicked the top off with a small ‘ pop ’. He held the bottle up to her parted lips and tilted it up, helping the amber liquid run down her throat. The sting radiated through her whole body. Hermione licked her burning lips while Sirius finished off the bottle. She was flushed. And so was he. His grey eyes bore holes into hers. She couldn’t help her breath quickening under his gaze.
Hermione took a step back, looking down at her toes. Sirius let out a soft chuckle as he sat the bottle down on the table. He put his hand on the small of her back, “Come on, Hermione. Let’s get you to sleep,” He murmured, leading her up the stairs past the giant troll leg umbrella stand. “For tonight, why don’t you sleep in here,” He gestured to the door bearing his name, “I’ll sleep in a different room. We haven’t cleaned out many yet but we can get you set up in one tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she whispered, the realization of her situation hitting her again. She hadn’t been in Sirius’ room before it was trashed by Snape, and hadn’t spent much time in there after Harry moved in. The walls were littered with pictures, the largest being a group of three young men, all laughing. The picture was folded over so the arm of the fourth man was visible but not his face.
“That’s James, Remus, and I the day we finished Hogwarts,” Sirius told her, deep sadness in his soft voice. Hermione could see the lake and the Whomping Willow in the background. “Lily took this picture,” he moved forward and touched the picture next to it. Lily and James holding a squirming baby. Harry. Hermione rushed to Sirius’ side and hungrily searched the picture. People weren’t exaggerating when they said James looked just like Harry. The little boy was gripping James’ hair and tugging. Hermione let out a laugh, tears springing to her eyes once more. Harry was alive here. He was alive. Why hadn’t she thought of that before now?
“Thank you,” she turned to face him and saw that his eyes were also glistening with tears. He rapidly tried to blink them away as Hermione took his hand. “We can talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Alright,” he gave her hand a small squeeze before walking from the room, “Goodnight, Hermione.”
“Goodnight, Sirius.”